we'll be burning up like neon lights
by chalantness
Summary: Stiles/Cora, during "Illuminated" - She should probably try looking for Scott or one of his friends and give them a heads up that their party's about to be cleared out.


**Title:** _we'll be burning up like neon lights  
_**Rating:** PG-13  
**Word Count:** ~1,800  
**Characters:** Stiles/Cora  
**Summary:** She should probably try looking for Scott or one of his friends and give them a heads up that their party's about to be cleared out.

**A/N:** I know this trope has been done a dozen times for "Illuminated", but whatever. I couldn't get it out of my head. And I miss Stiles and Cora. And I was watching _Reign_ yesterday and Adelaide's giggle is _freaking adorable_.

**we'll be burning up like neon lights**

"Trick or treat!"

Cora stifles a laugh, watching as Derek turns to face the three little kids in costume walking up behind him. They grin, cute and young and innocent, and she feels her lips tug into a wider smile. Derek and little kids will _always _amuse her because he's just so _bad _at handling them, and then he lies through his teeth that and says he hates them. And she'd believe it (Derek having a soft spot for anyonewill always be surprising), but the fact that he dragged her out of the loft just so they could buy Halloween candy is kind of argument enough.

"You just going to stare at them, or what?" she whispers, knowing he'll hear her.

He grunts, thrusting his arm back into the car.

She rolls her eyes, amused, and tears open a bag of assorted chocolates before handing it to him. He drops a couple into each of their pillow cases, but the kids don't move, still staring up at Derek with slightly scared but now curious expressions. She raises her eyebrows, waiting.

A growl rips through Derek's throat and the kids jump, startled, and then run away. Cora laughs – of course she does – but they didn't _scream_, either, so that's something.

"Derek," she says.

He shrugs a shoulder, looking entirely too pleased, and she just laughs again and hops out of the car. She can hear the sound of music blasting and a heavy bass thumping and she doesn't think much of it. It's Halloween. And apparently there's a power outage going on right now (of fucking course they come back on the night there's no power). She doesn't doubt that there are a dozen different parties going on right now filled with drunken teens acting stupid and thinking they can get away with things because the cops have their hands a little more tied with the lack of power. _God_, she doesn't miss high school at all. Maybe some aspects, but she sure as hell doesn't want to be surrounded by idiots on a daily basis.

Anyway, the music grows louder and louder the closer they get to their building, but she still doesn't think anything of it until they're in front of their door and sort of just staring at it because, even without their super sensitive hearing, it didn't take a genius to know there's a party going on in their loft.

She looks at Derek. He's standing perfectly still, still staring at the door.

Scott and his friends are _so_ dead.

Shaking her head, she grabs the handle and throws the door back, flinching a little as her ears adjust to the sudden loudness of the music. The loft is filled with people, the neon body paint and colored clothes (well, what little clothes everyone in here _actually_ has on) glowing brightly as they as they dance, undoubtedly spilling alcohol onto the floor while doing so.

Derek practically runs forward, but Cora throws her hand out and grabs onto his arm. "Don't kill anyone," she warns.

He gives her a look.

"Wait for me." His lips twitch in amusement, but a second later he has that hard look on his face and she lets go of him, watching him storm into the crowd.

After a moment she walks inside, too. She hears someone roll the door closed behind her, but she's surrounded by people and doesn't even try to look around to see who did it. She should probably try looking for Scott or one of his friends and give them a heads up that their party's about to be cleared out – because, contrary to popular belief, she _does_ kind of like those guys when they're not being idiots (so like, rarely). But then someone bumps into her and ends up getting alcohol down her shirt and she growls, levelling him with a glare.

"Holy shit," someone says – yells – and she turns away from the asshole to find…

Stiles.

His eyes are wide, almost comically so, and his jaw is actually hanging open. She smirks. The idiot is actually kind of cute as she remembers him.

The kiss imprinted on his cheek, though, is _not_ cute—at all.

"Cora," he exclaims, gesturing wildly to her. His eyes shift over her quickly, almost as if he's trying to memorize her or something, and his lips twitching like he's not sure whether to smile or still look surprised. Then he glances down and notices the dark spot on her shirt. "Oh, you're… you've got…"

She rolls her eyes. "I know, dumbass."

He _laughs_. "Well, if I thought I was seeing things, I'd be wrong. That's definitely you." He nods for no apparent reason, but then gives her strange look. "What are you doing here?"

"I _live_ here. With Derek," she reminds, "Who, by the way, is _also_ back in town."

"Oh," he says. Then his eyes widen as he lets this sink in. "_Oh_, crap, the party. He's… he's going to kill us, right?"

"Probably," she admits.

He makes a very _Stiles_ kind of face at that and it makes her smirk again, pressing her lips together to stifle a chuckle. This doesn't go unnoticed by him, though, because he gives her this _look_ that… well, almost every look of his makes her want to punch him in the face, but _this_ look makes it seem like he wants to say something but is holding himself back.

She rolls her eyes. "What?" he asks.

"If you want to say something, just spit it out," she says, shouting over the music.

He laughs again, and she'd be pissed (she hates when people find her _amusing_ for patronizing reasons), but then he says, "It's just nice to see you again," and she blinks, having not expected that at all. He shrugs a little and then leans in closer, adding, "And I hope you know you stick out like a sore thumb."

"Excuse me?"

He gestures at her. "You're not glowing. Come on, before your brother shuts down the party," he adds, taking her hand and tugging her forward.

"Stiles, don't you dare," she says, because he's leading her to a table set up with neon body paints and she's _not_ a fucking teen. Okay, well, technically she is, but stripping down and painting herself so she can fit in with the rest of the drunken idiots does not sound appealing.

But, for whatever reason, she doesn't once try ripping her from his grasp. They both know she's letting him drag her, that she could pull herself from his grasp and not move at all if she wanted to. But some small part of her _doesn't _want to. The part of her that's kind of missed being a reckless and carefree kid, and the part that's actually missed_ these _reckless, carefree kids – Scott and his idiot friends, especially Stiles – sort of _wants_ to enjoy all of this. She really can't remember the last time she went to a party, and she can appreciate the fact that the music's not bad at all and at the very least, it's not a costumeparty. (She hates dressing up, and she's a _werewolf_ – a _real _one. She doesn't need to play pretend.)

They reach the table, and after he's asked the guy behind it for paint, he turns to her and looks pleasantly surprised.

"What now?" she asks, trying to sound more annoyed than she actually is.

He grins. "You're actually going along with this."

"Maybe," she says, though it's obvious that she really is. "Maybe I just want to see you squirm."

"What?"

She smirks and shrugs her jacket off, tossing it at his face, then pulls her shirt over her head and drops it to the floor. Stiles gets her jacket off of his face and tosses it aside, opens his mouth – probably going to ask what her problem is or something – but then stops and actually lets his jaw drop a little as he takes in her white bra.

"Um, whoa," he says, swallowing, and she actually grins as his lips twitch into another one of his stupid smiles. "You… you, um… you look—"

"Holy crap," she laughs. "Just shut up and paint me, Stiles."

"You bet."

He looks eager and kind of adorable as the guy hands him a paintbrush and orange body paint, then he dips the brush in the paint and he looks over her carefully, like he's seriously contemplating how he wants to paint her. She's about to snap at him to hurry up when he swipes the brush along her collarbone. She actually fights back a shiver. He drags the paint slowly across her skin, dotting and swirling patterns into it, and when she gathers her hair in her hands and holds it back so it's not in the way, she catches him glance down her bra for a quick second before going back to painting. He takes his time, and when he's behind her and painting down her spine, and she feels his breath warm against her skin and feels a warmth spread through her.

She doubts it has anything to do with how hot it is in here.

When he finishes, he sets the paint and brush down on the table again and looks over her, though she doubts his fast heartbeats have anything to do with his artwork. She tilts her head, slips a hand in his as she steps closer, until their foreheads are practically touching, and she's not really sure where this is coming from, but she really needs to kiss him.

So she does.

She slides her hand over the back of his neck and pulls him forward, closes her eyes and slants her lips over his, kissing him.

He makes a startled noise and she smirks (honestly, that's _so_ like Stiles) before kissing him again, slower and a little deeper and dirtier than the first. He pulls his hand from hers and slides them both over her hips, fingertips skimming over her skin, and she swipes her tongue over his lower lip. He moans a little, smoothing his thumb over her hip, and in the back of her head, she wonders where Derek is and kind of hopes he doesn't put an end to this party. Whatever trance she's in, whatever's compelling her to act like this… she doesn't want it to stop.

But then Stiles moves his hand a little higher and higher, until his fingers brush against her ribs and she flinches back, feeling herself shiver and she lets out a giggle.

He blinks, staring at her in surprise, and she feels her cheeks warm. "Did you just giggle?" he asks.

"You _tickled_ me," she huffs.

He grins, looking completely amused. "You're _ticklish_."

"Don't you fucking dare!" she warns, but the jerk just laughs and wiggles his fingers at her teasingly. She rolls her eyes, turns on her heels to leave, but then he brushes her side again and she shrieks in laughter, stumbling back until she falls into his arms. "You _suck_," she says, and it sounds like a _whine_, but whatever.

"Good to know you're a little bit human," he tells her, his breath warm against her ear, and she smiles and shakes her head.

"Just kiss me, Stiles."


End file.
